Four neatly penned names, which were likely only the start. Surely there was more responsibility being spread. Responsibility which weighed heavy on the shoulders of those who possessed it.
Glaring at the line seemed to make everything feel better, and whilst James could not deny he was a murderer, his cause was just. He had heard that somewhere.
'The most terrible serial killers in history always had some twisted sense of morals indicating that their murders were somehow ethical. Just.'
James threw this statement of unknown origin to the side of his mind, ignoring its negative connotations on his current activity. Granted, he was a criminal now, but he knew that what he was doing was right. His morals were not twisted. They were completely in line with what society dictated.
Murder was an something that happened every day in this part of the city. This was the land that God neglected. This was the city with a barbed wire heart, pulsating and radiating its lack of decency through those who dwelled here. And James was one of the few with any sense of pride and morality remaining.
A group of people, few of whom had ever met, contacted one another, safe in the knowledge that their information was required and would not find its way back to the source, the wrong people. James had stumbled across his first contact by accident, and to this day, she remained his closest friend and only confidante. They had only met once or twice in the two years since James had been dragged into the underbelly of this city, which was rising every day.
Two years ago, and James was still waiting for an explanation of the events that changed his outlook on the city and his life. Maybe he would still be able to get one. If she hadn't been there, he certainly would never receive the information he craved.
Scarlet Padite. He owed her so much.